


You Found Me

by InquisitThis



Category: Impractical Jokers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-27
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12016041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquisitThis/pseuds/InquisitThis
Summary: Jen is a quiet dancer with a taste for sarcasm and aspirations for the stage.Brian is a bit of an asshole with a sense of humor and a touch of depression.





	1. Chapter 1

**“Hey mustache, what’s up?”**

Had she been able to hear him, it probably would have warranted him a confused look or glance behind her shoulder to see if he was actually talking to her or someone else. But he wasn’t talking to someone else. He was talking to her. However, the white ear buds that were currently taking up residence in her ears confirmed the suspicion that she hadn’t actually heard him, and to that he breathed a sigh of relief. For now.

It had already been an internal struggle to muster the courage to say that to her to begin with. One, because saying that to anyone was stupid and often got him in some kind trouble. Two, she was a woman. Three, she was gorgeous.

He stole a glance to a black box poised inconspicuously on top of the shelf facing his register. He shook his head discreetly, but he knew the people on the receiving end of the camera caught his small gesture; his plea to just let this poor woman go. Because he knew what was going to come next.

 _“Yeah, buddy, doesn’t look like she heard you.”_ A voice buzzed in his ear. _“Why don’t you just go ahead and take those headphones out.”_ Then there was some laughing before the audio cut out.

Brian rubbed his chin. “Mmm, yeah, that’s tough,” he said quietly back to his friends.

By now she was looking up at him. Her green eyes wide and expecting. Then he realized, yes she was expecting something. For him to ring up the few items that were sitting out on the conveyor belt. Because he was playing a cashier. He felt like an idiot. Like he often did when his friends set him up to fail.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and thought to himself.

_No way was he taking this loss._

Brian motioned to her ear buds, then eloquently reached over and yanked them out. “Hey mustache, what’s up?” He repeated, giving her a head nod. He started scanning her groceries.

And pandemonium erupted in his ear.

“I’m sorry, what?” She spoke finally, wrapping her ear buds up around her fist.

Brian started bagging her items. “It’s just a thing I say. It's like yo, what’s happenin’?” He paused to suppress a smile. “It’s just a thing.” He breathed.

She nodded slowly with her eyebrows knitted, and stuffed her phone and headphones into her pants pocket.

His face twisted up as the voices in his ear started up again. _“Q, you have never seen a bag before.”_

 _“Yeah, yeah. You do not know what to do with that thing.”_ Another voice chimed.

Brian’s shoulders relaxed. Making a fool of _himself_? This he could do.

 

* * *

 

_Soda._

That was the text.

She blew a few loose strands of hair from her eyes and tucked her phone into her the pocket of her paint-stained jeans. She exhaled and scanned through the selection of cold drinks in front of her. She loved how specific her sister could be. So she grabbed a few sodas at random and went over to stand in line. 

She stuffed her ear buds into her ears so she could call her sister. Since the cashier seemed to be a little slow, she decided she’d have enough time before she was next.

“What?” Her older sister, Holly, answered with a puff.

“Soda? Could you be a little more vague?” She looked down at her basket with a frown.

“Probably.”

“Well, you’re just going to have to deal with what I got then.”

She heard something fall. “I don’t care what you get.” There was a little struggle in Holly's voice. “Maybe something with alcohol? These people are driving me insane.”

“You better not be fucking something up.” She said in response to the crash and slid ahead in line.

Holly paused. “Is there something you needed or did you just call to chat? Because I’m kind of up a fucking ladder right now.” Yup, the paint fumes were definitely going to her head. “And now I’ve got paint on my phone.” She could hear her wiping over the microphone with her shirt.

“Do you want anything else?”

“Hey! Did you guys want anything else?” Her sister called away from the phone to her parents. There was a pause. “No, but the pizza’s here so hurry up.” Then she hung up.

Jen listened to the silence for a moment, then looked down at the white paint on her clothes and noticed the specks that decorated her arms like freckles. Actually the color wasn't _white_ , it was called Swiss Coffee. Her mom had been quick to correct her on that. She remembered because both her sister and her looked at each other at the same time and sent a silent _thank you_ to up above that they no longer lived with their parents.

Not that they didn’t love them. Because they absolutely did, so much that Holly moved away to California to attend college and never came back. So much that Jen moved to an apartment in the city that was nearly impossible to afford at the ripe old age of 18. So much that they were helping their parents paint their childhood home so it could be sold because they were retiring to Florida.

Of course they loved them, but they were more functional with miles between them.

That was mostly because Holly was a free spirit with a loud mouth and a bad attitude most of the time. Their mother was the same, only her sass was 24/7. Their father was a boisterous, now retired, businessman with an infinite number of dad jokes and a knack for always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. And Jen, however, turned out to be a sarcastic, somewhat quiet, lover of the arts and had almost nothing in common with her family.

So yeah, the miles were good.

But Jen found herself lost in thought when she realized that the cashier had said something to her. Then he took the liberty of pulling her headphones out, and after, continued to say something stupid.

“I’m sorry, what?” She asked in partial disbelief of what he just did.

He proceeded to make up some excuse about why he called her mustache, then acted like he had never bagged groceries before. A few _mishaps_ later, and their exchange ended with him having to replace a few of her items. However, when a media release was served up to her on a clipboard and a few people pointing out some cameras in the store, she realized she shouldn’t feel so sorry for the cashier that was likely to be unemployed by the end of the day. 

She signed a few things and laughed it off with some of the crew, then was on her way. Only thinking that she would have a funny story to tell her family when she got home. Not thinking that the daft cashier with kind eyes would be significant in her life at all. Not thinking that one inconsequential moment in a grocery store would change her forever.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hi, Mom,” Jen said into the phone one evening.

“Hi, honey, I was just calling to check in. How did your showcase go?”

Jen fumbled around until her hands fell to her remote. She paused the TV. “It was good. The kids were mostly fine. Only a couple cried.” Being the lady she was, she took a moment to stick her fingernail up into her gum to flick a popcorn kernel out.

Her mom laughed a little. “Whose group was this again?”

“Carrie’s. She’ll be back next week and I won’t have to deal with those kids again. _Thank Jesus_. But I have to admit, it was fun helping with a class.” She went over to the mirror hanging by the front door of her small apartment and tried to locate the small piece of food that was assaulting her mouth.

“They’re just kids, don’t be so mean. But I'm glad you at least had a little fun.”

“Really, Mom? Like you didn’t think me and Holly were annoying little hellions when we were like four or five?” Her mom didn’t say anything for a second, which was sort of amazing since her mom always had something to say. “Your silence speaks volumes, Mom,” she said as she flopped back on the couch.

Her mom made a noise like she was thinking. “Well,” she paused for effect, “you two were like that because you’re part me and part your dad.”

“Now you admit it.” They both laughed.

They chatted for another few minutes before Jen told her mom she had go get ready for the night and they hung up.

Jen looked down at her yoga pants and tank top and tried to mentally prepare herself for the task of changing her clothes. Only because it required her to gather the strength to get off the couch, find clothes that were probably less comfortable than what she had on, and actually try to fix her hair or correct her makeup.

A half hour later, Jen decided she was presentable enough to go out. She opted to change into a pair of leggings and light colored jean tunic. She grabbed her coat and was out the door.

Her feet found the way to her favorite watering hole. It was one of Jen’s favorite places in the city. On the outside, it wasn’t much to look at. Stuffed between a seedy looking insurance agency and a small comic book store. There was only a flashing red sign letting passersby that it was actually still in business. Inside, it disguised itself as a cute café during the day, where some of New York’s finest slam poets shared their new compositions and trendy girls could get a Panini and latte. But at night the tables spread out and the pastries were put away and the liquor came out. There was an open mic and anyone was able to express themselves with it, in any form.

Sometimes there was a comedian or two, but mostly aspiring musicians. Jen found herself there most nights. With a few drinks in her system, or if the bar wasn’t particularly crowded, she would take the stage and belt out a few tunes. Nothing original of course, she wasn’t that good. Typically whatever had been in her head that day or something that matched her mood. It made her feel alive, like she was living how she always wanted to. Like the establishment, by day, Jen masked herself as a cute, docile executive assistant with a passion for dance. But up there on stage, she was different. It wasn’t like singing in the shower or to the few flowers that lived on the windowsill in her kitchen. It was real, in front of people. It was overwhelming. So usually it was one song and she was done, having her fill for the moment. Her introverted mask would slip back on and she would get a table and watch the other performers, reveling in the feeling of confidence and slight humiliation that would spread across her chest.

But tonight the crowd was drunk, and generous, and egged her on for another song. And she obliged.

The bartender slid Jen’s choice of poison down to her with a wink. She lifted the glass in appreciation with a nod of her head before taking a swig. It sent her senses ablaze for a few seconds as her eyes settled back on the stage. A few people were drunkenly swaying in the few open spaces among the tables and she smiled. This place had been her home for several years and it always warmed her soul to know other people probably felt like that too.

It wasn’t long before Jen felt the familiar buzz of intoxication wash over her. She noticed that she was three drinks in and decided to call it a night. She slapped down a couple of bills on the counter when the bartender walked back over to her.

“Calling it a night?” Mark asked, taking the money and clearing her glasses.

Jen nodded, straightening her purse across her body. “Yeah.”

“You were on fire tonight,” Mark mused, folding his arms across his chest.

Jen smiled. “You heard that, huh?”

“Who didn’t?” He shook his head. “You act all modest, but I know you, Jen. You got a smart mouth like no other, and I know your sister.” He paused. “And your mom. But you come in here and clam all up about that voice of yours. You know you’re good.”

Jen laughed with a slight blush. “Yeah, like nails on a chalkboard, but those bastards are drunk enough to mistake that for singing, so,” she drifted off with a shrug.

“Nails on a chalkboard, huh?” Mark laughed a little. “That’s what you think?”

She shrugged. “Dying seal? I don’t know. Mark, I’m drunk, stop talking to me.”

“Okay, drunk Jen. Why don’t you come in tomorrow night? Miguel will be here and I’m sure he would like to hear what you’ve got.”

“Miguel?”

Mark huffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know who I’m talking about. I told you. Miguel? Does vocal lessons?” Jen shook her head, only half listening. “He like coaches vocalists or some shit, he’d happily take you on. You sing, you dance, you’re cute, you’re kind of an asshole – you’re basically perfect.”

Jen grinned. “How do you not have a girlfriend, Mark? You are so charming.”

“Hey, my offer still stands,” he said, referring to the numerous dates he’d asked Jen on. He’d actually stopped seriously asking her, and instead just did it on principle now.

“I would rather die.” And he somehow knew she was being completely serious. “I’m leaving.” She slid off the barstool and wiggled her fingers to Mark in departure.

“Think about it!” Mark called after her.

“Bye!”

Just as she was about to push out of the door and into the cool New York City air, she noticed a few tarps taped up on the adjoining wall to the comic book store. She dropped the hand she had on the handle and walked over to construction area and peeled back the cover to find a hole in the wall connecting the two businesses. It wasn’t finished, but it looked like there was going to be a door there. She pursed her lips in contemplation and thought about the new patrons that would be joining the scene. But she shrugged it off and returned to the exit.

She glanced in the store window as she passed by. In all her time coming to this area, she had never looked inside. It looked as expected from what she could see past the scissor gate that was in front of the window since the store was closed. Comic books and collectors items were packed onto crowded shelves. In the back she could see a light on and a couple of people bent over a table, but couldn’t make out much about their features, besides one guy with a mop of dark hair. She glanced over the store for another moment, then continued on her journey back home.


	3. Chapter 3

The light beaming in through the small window by the bed and into Jen’s eyes is what woke her up. Face pressed to the mattress and her body stretched out diagonally in an awkward position, she knew she was going to be sore. It wasn’t until she sat up that the wave of pain pulsed through her head, making her feel like she got hit by a truck. She looked to the alarm clock on her night table and noticed the empty wine bottle blocking her view from the time.

_Oh yeah, that happened last night._

She groaned and flopped back under her blanket, trying to forget she had a job to go to. A job with her new, talkative boss. _Awesome._ She turned to her side and shut her eyes tight, trying to find a reason to quit her job. Money? No, she didn’t need that. It was so cheap to rent her tiny studio apartment in the Upper East Side. Not. She could be homeless though, right? Then the sunlight coming through her curtains greeted her eyes like an old friend and she got up.

Getting ready in the morning was the worst, she decided. Having to shower, brush your teeth, pick out clothes, and just in general, _try_ , was exhausting. Especially on days where she decided to drink an entire bottle of wine the night before and have three drinks at the bar. But she continued to go and do it again nearly every night. Then she tried to think what else she would do on her time off besides go to the bar. Maybe get friends? The logical choice. Get a hobby? No, too expensive, she gets too obsessive. Get a boyfriend? _Funny._ Then she decided she was just grumpy and got in the shower.

  

* * *

 

 

“What the hell is this?” Brian asked the shop owner, a good friend of his, Dave. He’d been there all afternoon and hadn’t noticed it.

Dave looked up from behind the counter and saw his friend motioning the newly installed door joining the neighboring bar and his shop. “Oh yeah, put a door in there. Guy who owns the place paid for it. We thought it might help business for both of us." 

Brian cocked his head with a smile. “Nerds becoming drunks? Likely,” he motioned to himself. “Drunks becoming nerds? Really?”

Dave shrugged. “Hey man, I didn’t have to pay for it and if it gets us some business then it’s worth it.”

Brian rubbed his chin. “I didn’t actually know this was bar, I thought it was some dessert place?”

“Nah, it’s a like café or something until about 6 then they start selling liquor. It’s pretty sweet, you should check it out. They have an open mic. There’s a pretty hot chick that sings there like every night so maybe you could score?”

Brian smiled, making a show of straightening his jacket and hat even though Dave was too busy counting the drawer to notice. “Well you had me at liquor and hot chick, my friend.” He pushed through the door with a quick good-bye to his friend.

He made a quick assessment of the place. It was actually bigger than he thought it would be. There was a small stage on the back wall and a small dance space off to the side then tons of round bar tables scattered throughout. The bar itself was poised on the farthest wall from the comic book store. He made his way over, took a seat, and ordered a drink. He turned his attention to the guy on the stage playing a guitar. He had a few people swaying along. When he ended, Brian applauded with everyone else.

The bartender had just served him his drink when a dark haired woman unceremoniously flopped down on to a seat a few stools from him. He glanced over at her as she threw down her purse on the bar top and leaned over on her elbows. Her loosely curled, dark brown hair was cut short, hanging just above her shoulders. She was dressed professionally with a buttoned shirt tucked into a black pencil skirt. He noticed her feet were bare then saw that she had kicked off her black heels when she sat down. The bartender got her a drink without even asking what she wanted, so he assumed she came here often.

He must have been staring because she hit him with a, “You can take a picture, buddy, it’ll last you longer.” She took a long swig of her drink.

Brian laughed a little. “You made quite the entrance, had to check out what I was getting myself into here.”

“Well you ain’t getting yourself into _anything_ here,” she snapped back, finally looking over at him. She recognized his face, but was unable to place him. She knew she’d seen those brown eyes somewhere before and, by the look on his face, he felt the same way.

“Oh my god, mustache? Right?” He recognized her instantly. She had been a victim to one of their grocery store pranks from a few months ago. “From the grocery store? I was the asshole guy with the TV show.”

She nodded. “Oh yeah. Shit, I forgot about that. Did my part ever air?” 

“Eh, I think they contact you to let you know if they air it.” 

She shrugged. “Well there’s goes my 15 seconds of fame.”

Brian waved her off. “Eh, you don’t want it anyway. People recognizing you all the time,” then he realized she hadn’t remembered him at all. “Well most people. It’s a hassle.”

She started laughing at him. “Right, A list celebrity over here.”

He held his hands up, chuckling a bit. “No, no, never claimed to be. Maybe C or D list if those exist? But I do have my own TV show, so,” he trailed off, trying to somewhat impress her. He decided to move a few seats down, leaving one stool between them. “May I?” He asked before sitting down.

She nodded. “Go for it.” She motioned for another drink. When the bartender came around Brian asked for another as well, slipping him cash to cover both of their orders. “Trying to impress me?” She asked, thoroughly unimpressed, but accepted his offer to buy her drink anyway.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. She was actually quite beautiful and her utter disinterest in him lured him in more.

“You can try, but she’s a tough nut to crack,” the bartender interjected, who Brian noticed was still hovering in front of them. 

“Oh yeah?” Brian asked.

“Is that what you think of me, Mark? I’m crushed.”

Mark turned to Brian, ignoring her remark. “I’ve been asking her out for years.”

“Ever think it’s ‘cause I’m just not interested?” She butted in.

“Well, yeah, that’s exactly what I think.”

“Well, you are not wrong, sir. But maybe I’m interested in Mr. Handsome over here.” She tipped her glass toward him.

He stuck a thumb out towards Brian. “So this guy, he got a chance? You interested in him?”

She looked over at Brian, who was sitting there very amused, and assessed him from top to bottom and back again. She shrugged. “Wouldn’t he like to know?” Both Brian and Mark chuckled a little.

“Well good luck, man,” Mark said, leaving the two of them alone again.

“Not to alarm you, but I think dude might like you,” Brian said, breaking the brief silence that had washed over them.

“Nah, not anymore anyway. Mark is a cool guy, I’ve known him for years.”

“So you’re a tough nut to crack, huh?”

“Apparently.”

“Any chance I might have a shot at that?”

“At what, cracking my nut?” She asked playfully, giving him a flirtatious glance.

He grinned, leaning over to her. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to do?” She laughed out loud, which threw him off a bit because he thought he might be getting somewhere. He realized she was fucking around with him. “Well played.”

“So you want to go back to trying to impress me?” She teased and Brian knew he had absolutely no chance with her, but he decided to stay anyway.

A few drinks later and they had migrated to one of the tables closer to the stage. There had been a band earlier that they listened to for a while, then another. It had been at least two hours since they’d been at the bar, but neither of them had noticed. They were too busy talking and laughing with one another. Brian was having an extremely easy time talking to her, which didn’t usually happen with members of the opposite sex. But since he had determined that she wasn’t interested, he didn’t feel like he needed to try so hard, so the conversation flowed easily.

Brian found himself standing at the table while she sat, listening to him. He had been listing off reasons she should be impressed by him. Although, he’d admit, he didn’t start off strong with telling her how many comic books he’s read in his life.

“Okay, okay. I have a TV show on TruTV. That’s pretty impressive!” He saw the bored look on her face. “Come on! Even _I'm_ impressed they keep us on! How many people do you know that have a TV show?”

She pretended to think really hard about it. “One?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m a fire fighter, you know? FDNY.”

She bowed her head. “Well, thank you for your service, but still no.”

“Come on!” He paused. “I have a uniform, you know, girls like that.”

She regarded him for a moment. “Okay, yes, that would be super hot, but still no. That’s not impressive, that’s just taking advantage of a weakness.”

“Well, if you ever feel weak, I know first aid,” he flirted.

She rolled her eyes back at him. “Come on, give me something else.”

He was trying to rack his brain for anything that might impress her. “I know a couple of celebrities, I guess? Oh, I know! That chick off of King of Queens, banged her sister.”

“Dude, no, that doesn’t count. Maybe if you banged the main chick, but not her sister.”

“I know a couple of wrestlers?”

She shook her head. “Do I look like I’m into wrestling?”

“No,” he answered shamefully. He listed off a couple more people that he knew or had meet.

“Wait, wait, wait, you know Joey Fatone?” She gasped.

“All that other shit and you’re impressed by _Joey Fatone_?”

“ _I want to see you out that door, baby bye bye bye, bye bye_ ,” she belted, causing Brian to slap a hand over her mouth because of how loud she was being. “Oh man, I used to crank that shit when it came on the radio. I _have_ to meet him! Do you know the other guys?”

Before they knew it, it was closing time and Mark was telling them to wrap it up. Brian helped her into her coat and made sure she remembered her purse. They were making their way out the door as Brian glanced over at the new entrance to the comic shop and silently thanked Dave for agreeing to it. He’d had an amazing night, one of the best in a while.

“You sure you’ll get home okay?” He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets to protect them from the cold.

She nodded and jerked her head to the right. “I live like 3 blocks that way. Where are you headed?”

“Staten Island.”

“Shit, that’s a trek. You need a place to crash for the night?”

“Nah, I’ll drive,” he said holding up his keys.

“You good to drive?”

He nodded, he’d only had a couple beers when he first got to the bar hours ago and had since eaten and drank plenty of water. “I’ll be all right. You sure you don’t need me to walk you home?”

“I’m fine, really. Not the first time I’ve strolled out of this place at closing time.”

Brian chuckled a little, fumbling with his keys. He wasn’t ready for the night to be over and for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t because he wanted to get her into his bed. He genuinely had a good time with her. He had the feeling like it was just the start to a good friendship.

“Well, I’m going, I got work in the morning.” She waved. “It was nice meeting you – oh my god, I never introduced myself! We’ve been hanging out for like four hours! Why didn’t you say anything?”

Brian laughed, he’d realized it once they moved from the bar to the table but forgot to mention it. “Brian Quinn,” he said, sticking out his hand.

“Jen Harper,” she replied, putting her hand in his. While he was cold to the touch, she was incredibly warm.

“Give me your phone,” she demanded and he obliged. She tapped around on his screen for a few seconds before returning it to him. “I will see you around, Brian Quinn.”

“Looking forward to it, Jen Harper.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on AO3 and my first fanfic in years. I'm open to suggestions.


End file.
